Destiny
by ParaCaerOuVoar
Summary: You are born. You die. What happens in between is up to you. Life, love, relationships. Of course, just because it's destiny doesn't mean you don't have to fight like hell to make it work.//DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

Yeah, I know, I should be working on my other fics, but Penni nudged my NY muse back to life and it won't go away.

I own nothing but Taylor. Everyone else belongs to CBS.

Just in case people don't read Taylor Made For Miami, this is an alternate use of the OC I created on there. This takes place about four years before the start of TMFM.

--

_Well I met this girl, just the other day_

_I hope I don't regret, the things that I said_

_And when we're laughing and joking with each other now_

_I'm glad I met this girl_

_She didn't walk away_

_Met This Girl, Mcfly_

The sun blazed down upon New York City in the summer. Trees bloomed and the streets were full of children playing lazily in the heat. Times Square was full of tourists, taking photos and consulting maps, adjusting their ball caps. An open topped tour bus was making its way slowly around the city, showing off the sights and sounds of the City That Never Sleeps.

Detective Don Flack shouldered the door to the NYPD Homicide Precinct open, hauling a handcuffed youth in, gripping his firmly by the scruff of his neck. He wasn't impressed in having to bring him in on a supposed day off, but if the kid had set off one more fire hydrant while he was trying to sleep, he would have throttled the kid with his bare hands. As it was, he would have to content himself with throwing the kid in the un-air-conditioned cell for a couple hours. He was on his way out of the door when he passed someone he knew all too well.

She walked past him, engrossed in her iPod, but he reached a hand out, touching her shoulder. She flinched away from him, whirling round to face him, her hands going up in a defensive position. Her green eyes blinked at him in recognition, before she wrapped him in a hug, squeezing his torso tightly. 'Don! It's so good to see you!' She realised him and stood back, pushing her coppery hair out of her face. 'I didn't realise you worked here, I thought you would have gone into Homicide?'

He laughed. 'I did. Just dropping off a troublemaker, then I'm going back to bed. It's my 'day off',' he said, with air quotations.

'I'm surprised something managed to wake you up, quite frankly,' she teased. 'I swear, when we were younger me and Derek did everything short of dropping a bomb to wake you up, and still you snored on.'

He chuckled, clapping a hand on her shoulder. 'What brings you here then?'

'Meeting with the Crime Lab boss,' she said, twirling to show off her conservative outfit. She'd replaced her usual jeans and shirt for dress trousers and a blouse, but kept her boots, just polishing them until they shone. 'What do ya think? Smart enough?'

'Wait, you're asking my opinion? I was under the impression nothing I said mattered?' he asked, faking shock.

She pushed him gently, although his huge frame meant he outweighed her by at least eighty pounds and over six inches. She frowned at him, taking a step back. 'Damn, Don. What the hell have you been eating? You were a skinny kid before you went into the academy. How'd you go from beanpole to brick shit house?'

'Eatin' way too much,' said a heavily accented voice behind her. She looked behind her and saw another cop, much smaller than Don, with sandy hair, frosted blonde at the tips and bright blue eyes framed by rectangular glasses. He was wearing a white dress shirt with the top button undone and dark dress pants. Apparently he had forgone a jacket because of the heat. 'Hey, red?'

Taylor raised her eyebrow to Don. 'That would be you,' he explained guiltily. She turned properly to face him, arching one eyebrow cooly.

'Why you wasting your time with that schmuck? You're pretty, but no offence, you're not his type.'

'His type?' she asked, the tone of her voice dangerous. Flack knew from experience that when the quieter she got, the further away people should get.

'Yeah, you know, you being classy and all?' he said, grinning, clearly thinking this was a joke.

'Classy?' she asked. She could feel Don getting angry behind her.

'Yeah, most of the girls he dates, well, they don't dress like you, to put it lightly.'

Taylor paused, before replying. 'Well, it's a good thing I'm not his date, isn't it?'

Danny faltered a bit, his smile falling. 'Then you are…?'

'Your new boss,' she said without thinking, throwing it out there.

He blanched, the obnoxious smile sliding from his face. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Don's booming laugh came from behind her, and Danny glanced up sharply. 'She got you good Messer,' he chuckled, and Taylor grinned as well, sticking her hand out for him to shake.

'Taylor Mason, new CSI. Does Messer have a first name?'

Danny looked insulted, his brow wrinkled, before it smoothed out and he laughed as well. 'Danny. Danny Messer,' he told her, shaking her hand.

'Nice to meet you Danny, Danny Messer,' she said, before turning to Flack.

'I'll see you later?' she asked.

'Sure. Here's my card,' he smiled, handing her a small white cardboard rectangle. She took it and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

'It's good to see you again Don,' she said simply, heading over to the elevator, Danny following her.

'You too,' he said softly, escaping out of the door before he was tempted to his desk, overflowing with case files. This was his first proper day off in almost five weeks, and he was damned if paperwork was gonna stop him enjoying it.

--

Taylor wasn't surprised when Danny waited for the elevator with her, but she was surprised when he hit the thirty fifth floor button before she could.

'You're a CSI?' she asked, trying and failing to keep the surprise out of her voice.

'You're very sarcastic for someone so young,' he commented.

'Excuse me?' She folded her arms, looking up at him.

'You can't be more than what, twenty two, twenty three?' He looked her up and down, appraising her. It made her feel like she was a side of beef waiting to be purchased.

'Twenty four,' she retorted through clenched teeth.

'Exactly, you're practically jailbait,' he teased, his mood very different from before. His remarks seemed much lighter now, less barbed than before. Taylor got the sense he had been showboating, deliberately pushing Flack's buttons, not taking her into consideration. A mistake he had paid for, she thought wryly, flinching as her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her bag, checking the call ID before dropping it in again, sighing in exasperation.

'You having jock trouble there, Red?' Danny questioned, glancing over.

She glared at him.

'Cheerleader? Cos you know, I'm alright with that,' he leered.

She rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore him. The phone buzzed again, interrupting the silence. The screen read DEAN again, and she turned off the ringer, shoving it down to the bottom of her bag. She couldn't deal with him, not today.

--

Danny jogged along the sidewalk, already later than he should be. Mac was going to have his ass if he didn't get there in record time.

He turned the corner, heading into the building, spotting Flack talking to some girl. She wasn't his usual pick-up, she had brilliant auburn hair cascading down her back in waves, and she was wearing conventional clothes, smart black pants and a wine red blouse, fitted tightly. Flack was focused completely on her, only watching her, not what was going on around him. Danny grinned, sensing a chance to have a little fun. He approached her, listening to the conversation. '…you go from beanpole to brick shit house?'

'Eatin' way too much,' Danny cut in, watching Flack's eyes dart up to meet his. He ignored the warning in them. 'Hey, red?' he said, and she turned, showing Danny sparkling emerald eyes, her glare boring into him. 'Why you wasting your time with that schmuck?' he asked, sniggering as Flacks eyes turned hard and angry. 'You're pretty, but no offence, you're not his type.'

'His type?'

'Yeah, you know, you being classy and all?' he grinned wider, knowing he was pushing all the right buttons with his friend. He missed the subtle weight shift on her part, shuffling her feet.

She arched one thin eyebrow. 'Classy?' she asked, but Danny was just watching Flack turning red with anger or embarrassment, he couldn't tell.

'Yeah,' most of the girls he dates, well, they don't dress like you, to put it lightly.'

She paused, thinking. 'Well, it's a good thing I'm not his date, isn't it?'

Danny frowned slightly, confused but not shutting up. 'Then you are…?'

Then she said something he would never have expected, not if he lived to be a hundred. 'Your new boss,' she retorted, a smile playing around her lips.

He froze, panicking. He was dead. No way would his boos put up with that. He'd be lucky to escape with his life, never mind his job. Flack smirked from behind her. _Glad someone finds it amusing,_ he thought bitterly, glaring at him. 'She got you good Messer,' he laughed, and she smiled as well, holding a small hand out.

'Taylor Mason, new CSI. Does Messer have a first name?' she asked, and Danny frowned, not sure whether to laugh or be insulted. He chose laughter, only just.

'Danny. Danny Messer,' he said, taking the offered hand.

'Nice to meet you Danny, Danny Messer,' she said, before turning to Flack.

'I'll see you later?' she asked.

'Sure. Here's my card,' he smiled, handing her a small white cardboard rectangle. She took it and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

'It's good to see you again Don,' she said simply, heading over to the elevator, Danny following her, shaking his head slightly at Flack.

Having someone like Taylor around would certainly make his day more fun, if her sense of humour was to be judged by her Aston Kutcher brand of pranks. Only time would tell, he guessed, catching up to her as she stepped inside the elevator.

--

Well? You like it? You hate it? Let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

Yeah, I know, I should have got this up sooner. I'm a bad person etc.

On a more serious note, I'd like to address the yellow accounts out there, as well as some of the more extreme DL fans. I'm not going to tar you all with the same brush, I'm talking about the people who talk about Danny being so right for Lindsay, and who say Danny should only be with Lindsay. This fic WILL be Danny/OC, and anyone who has a problem with Danny/OC fics should come to me about it, instead of anyone else. I don't care if I get flamed, so bring your pitchforks and lighter fluid. I'd also like to say that I'm firmly on Axellia's side about the vendetta (yes, that's right, a vendetta) launched against because she had the audacity to win awards. I know, I know, it's terrible (not). This stupid hate campaign has scared a lot of extremely talented authors away to other sites and I think it's ridiculous that no one else is speaking up on their behalf.

I think that's all for now.

-climbs down off soapbox-

I own nothing, only Taylor and Calum. Also, you may notice an old character in this. Chad was an awesome character, and he WILL be sticking around, don't worry!

--

Taylor stepped out of the elevator, Danny heading the other way, talking animatedly into a cell phone. She looked around, automatically trying and failing to memorize her surroundings. The only thing worse than her balance was her sense of direction. Thank God Mac was here to show her around. She spotted him through the glass of his office, looking more tired than usual. He was working on paperwork, pausing occasionally to drink the coffee Taylor knew would be expensive and hidden in his desk drawer. She leaned against the open door for a moment before speaking up. 'If I told you to go home and sleep, you would say…'

'What's sleep?' he replied, looking up and smiling when he saw her. 'Morning Taylor.'

'Likewise,' she said, moving into the office and throwing herself into a chair. 'Have you actually been home since yesterday?'

'Home?' he blinked, before laughing quickly. She allowed herself a brief grin, before putting a more stern expression on. She removed the pen from his hand, before snatching the can of pens from his grasp, holding them just out of reach.

'Go home, shower, get changed, then come back to work. OK?' she asked, putting the pens on the floor. He sighed, getting up. He was just slipping his jacket on when his phone rang. 'Taylor.' He answered briskly, shrugging his jacket on. Satisfied, Taylor retrieved the pens and replaced them on the desk. 'Yeah, I'll be right there.' He hung up, heading out the door. 'Taylor, you're with me,' he said, 'we just got a call out to Times Square.' He headed down the hallway, sticking his head into the break room. 'Stella, Times Square.' Taylor saw an attractive older woman with a mane of curly hair get to her feet, grabbing her jacket as well.

'What happened to going home?' she complained, smiling at Stella. 'Taylor Mason, newbie.' She introduced herself.

'Stella Bonasera,' the woman replied. 'Mac's going home?'

'Not anymore he isn't,' Mac answered, heading into the elevator. The two women followed him, rolling their eyes.

'Does he ever go home?' Taylor stage whispered to Stella, who smiled and replied, also in stage whisper.

'Kicking and screaming.'

They laughed, unaware that Mac, as they could only see the back of his head, was smiling also. Taylor was going to fit right in here.

--

Taylor surveyed the scene, drinking everything in. She'd met the homicide detective on scene, a Calum Tanaka, 'Adopted,' he clarified when introduced, Taylor looking skeptical at the Asian surname. Hitting six foot seven and with chin length flame-red hair, he was hard to miss, and Stella had zeroed in on him, introducing Taylor as Mac went on to the scene. He'd nodded a greeting, smiling widely. 'Nice to meet ya,' he said, holding out a pale hand, dusted with freckles, just like his face.

'Likewise,' Taylor replied, grasping the hand.

'Have fun being the newbie,' he said, before having to veer off suddenly as a tussle broke out at the yellow tape. 'Damn rubber neckers,' he muttered.

Stella and Taylor continued onto the open topped tourist bus, where Mac was already gloved up and snapping photos of the 'body'. The victim was wearing a tourist t-shirt, the ones you could buy for a couple of dollars on any street corner, and a ball cap, pulled down low, so Taylor couldn't see his face.

'How long IS this tour?' Stella quipped, earning a bemused look from Mac. Taylor pulled on a pair of gloves, examining the body visually. 'That was funny,' Stella clarified, also pulling on a pair of gloves. 'So, what have we got here?'

'New twist on the bitch ride to hell,' Mac replied, shifting so they could both see clearly.

'Gang members dig up a rival's corpse and send it around the city? This isn't Chicago Mac, it's urban legend. Looks like a practical joke. Times Square, tourist t-shirt. Someone was trying to scare the tourists, and used a prop shop skeleton.' Stella said, sounding skeptical.

Taylor shrugged, removing the cap, frowning when she saw what was underneath. Instead of what they had all assumed was a body, albeit a small one, was a browned and aged skeleton. It looked real to Taylor, but she was no anthropologist. However, Mac apparently was.

'Store bought skeletons are bleached and processed. They also have drill marks from when they were assembled. This skull is brown and no drill marks.'

Taylor spotted something, recalled from not so distant biology lessons in school. 'Missing a mandible,' she pointed out, touching the skull gently with a latexed finger tip.

Mac leant back on the ball if his feet. 'If this is a joke, I'm not laughing. These bones are real.'

They processed the bus quickly and efficiently, handing the skeleton over to the ME's assistant. Then they went back to the lab, intending to grab a quick cup of coffee and start processing the clothes in the lab.

--

Taylor reached up into the cupboard above the kettle, straining to reach the sugar. As usual, her five foot five frame was letting her down. A hand appeared over her head, retrieving the sugar and setting it down next to her, leaving her stretching for thin air. She sank back down onto the heels of her boots, turning to thank whoever had rescued the sugar for her.

She came face to face with a grinning lab tech, complete with white coat covered, she hoped, with fake blood. 'Thanks,' she said, dumping three huge spoonfuls in her mug and stirring.

'No problem. You know, coffee stunts your growth,' he said, his blue eyes flicking down to her hip, spying her badge and gun. 'Chad.' He extended a hand.

'Little too late for me,' she said, taking a drink and shaking his hand, adding another spoonful of sugar as an afterthought. 'Taylor.'

'New Detective or…?' he asked, leaving the question open.

'CSI,' she finished, snagging a cranberry and apple muesli bar from the cupboard and retreating to the couch.

He nodded, running a hand through his dark blond hair, frowning when he brought his hand back and it was pink with more fake blood. 'Damn stuff gets everywhere,' he muttered, before heading for the door. 'I'm gonna hit the showers. See ya!' he called as he left the door, shedding his lab coat on the way.

She waved a goodbye, biting into her snack, the first thing she'd eaten that day. She hadn't had time for breakfast, intending to grab something on the way in, but had forgot, and the next thing she knew, it was lunchtime and her stomach was bellowing it's protests. She finished her bar quickly and sat back, sipping her coffee. She checked her phone, buried at the bottom of her bag. Fifteen missed calls, all from Dean. 'Goddamn it Dean,' she muttered, angrily crumpling the wrapper of her 'breakfast'. 'Things are finally going well. Why do you have to stick your nose in?'

'You know, talking to yourself is the first sign of madness?' said a voice behind her, and she snapped her phone shut, glancing around to see the bespectacled CSI from earlier.

'We're all mad here,' she shrugged, finishing her coffee.

'OK, OK, Alice, no need to get snarky,' he put his hands up in mock surrender. 'You hungry?'

'Sure. I guess.'

'Then I'm taking you to this great little place I know. They make the best Cannoli. Better than my ma's, not that I'd ever tell her that.' He laughed, a deep, infectious sound that made the corners of Taylor's lips twitch.

'How can I say no to that?' she replied, and stood up, grabbing her bag and empty mug, dumping it in the sink on the way out. 'I love Italian.'

Danny just smirked, pressing the down button for the elevator. Taylor just hoped Dean would stay quiet during the meal, as he should have done this morning.

--

Hope you enjoyed that, sorry for not updating sooner. I'll get another chapter up ASAP

Also, I couldn't think of a song for this chapter, so I didn't put one on. Hopefully you kind people will think of one and help me out?


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